


she’s got it where it counts, kid

by flibbityflob



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26252401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbityflob/pseuds/flibbityflob
Summary: THE GALAXY IS AT WARThe Rebel Alliance has launched a series of offensives to break the iron hold the GALACTIC EMPIRE has over the galaxy.From Coruscant to Moraband, the EMPIRE holds unfathomable power, wiping out the remaining JEDI KNIGHTS left in the galaxy.One such Jedi Master, Ingrid Galatea, is fleeing her relentless pursuers, and is seeking aid to flee the Imperially controlled planet Abregado-rae…
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9
Collections: 2020 Ultra Rarepair Big Bang





	she’s got it where it counts, kid

**THE GALAXY IS AT WAR**  
**The Rebel Alliance has launched a series of offensives to break the iron hold the GALACTIC EMPIRE has over the galaxy.**

**From Coruscant to Moraband, the EMPIRE holds unfathomable power, wiping out the remaining JEDI KNIGHTS left in the galaxy.**

**One such Jedi Master, Ingrid Galatea, is fleeing her relentless pursuers, and is seeking aid to flee the Imperially controlled planet Abregado-rae…**

  
Ingrid stared exhaustedly at her cheap, disgusting, but blissfully strong glass of whisky. The day, (though it was probably closer to two days in length), had been utterly exhausting. It had started off well enough, the sun had risen gently over her latest hiding place, and she was sure she could make it at least two or three months without anyone discovering her. It had been a risky move, to make her base on the historic Sith homeworld of Moraband. She’d hoped that her risk would pay off; her Master had once told her that hiding right under the nose of the enemy was a skilful way to avoid detection.

Perhaps that was the case when he was a Knight, but she’d rapidly become aware of the fact that the galaxy had changed in the years since she’d been a Padawan. She’d had a blissful three days of relaxation and meditation, the first in almost a year. And then the Stormtroopers had landed, and she’d taken three blaster wounds before managing to get the Pegasus off the ground, and her poor ship had taken critical damage when she’d come out of hyperspace. And then it crashed. She’d had the Pegasus since she was seventeen years old, a bright eyed Padawan in the last days of the Galactic Republic, and now it was gone. And, even worse, she’d had to blow the remains of the ship up herself, a desperate hope to keep the Empire off her trail.

And now she was here, sighing into a glass of cheap whisky, desperately formulating any plan that would let her escape in one piece. One piece, with several blaster shots that she hadn’t had time to heal.

L1 beeped, mournfully. The astromech droid had loved the ship almost as much as she had, and it stung to know it was gone. She patted his head, and he made an appreciative beep in response.

“Will we be leaving the planet soon, Master Ingrid?” He asked, and Ingrid smiled softly. Even when tipsy and wounded, stuck on an Imperial planet, at least she had a friend. And a friend who spoke in binary, rather than common.

“Maybe. Depends on a lot of things.”

“Affirmative.” He beeped again, and after a short pause, “Will you be able to oil my circuits soon, Master? The sand on Moraband was bad for them.”

Ingrid laughed, before smiling down, sadly, at her drink once more. “I promise. The moment we get somewhere friendly, you’ll get as much oil as you want.”

He beeped happily, and Ingrid let out an exhausted sigh. The Force had protected her thus far, had kept her out of the sight of wandering eyes and spies, and its presence was a reassuring comfort. It was keeping her hidden from any prying eyes in this cantina, too. And it alerted her to the presence moving towards her, one burning with intent and a kind of glee. Ingrid moved her hand to the hilt of her lightsaber, and kept her eyes fixed on her drink. The person sat opposite her, and Ingrid willed her anxiety into the force. 

“Ingrid!” The person whispered, eagerly, and Ingrid’s eyes flicked up to the face of her very dear friend.

“Annette? What are you doing here?” She said, and hoped that she didn’t sound too enthusiastic. 

“Oh, you know. The usual.” Annette said, and Ingrid took her in. Her clothes were loose, and her eyes were just as bright as they’d been all those years ago, on Gorse. Ingrid had loved her then. Ingrid loved her now.

Annette had saved her life then, had put her own life at risk a dozen times to save Ingrid’s life. She’d stood before a blazing fire, her bright red hair becoming one with the flames, her eyes burning almost as bright as them. Loving Annette was the easiest thing Ingrid had ever felt, and it burned. She had lived her life by the Jedi code, no attachments, no romance, none of it. To love was to defy everything she’d ever known, the few remnants of the peaceful life she’d lived before the end of everything she knew. The Jedi Code, its tenets and its laws, they were her life. They were everything to her. And yet her basest, most human desires, they burned with need for the other woman. To look at Annette was to defy her whole life. 

Ingrid’s voice cracked as she spoke, and at least she had an excuse for it. She was quite truly exhausted. “How’s business?”

“Oh, better than ever! Our mutual friends appreciate the ways I get relief aid to them much quicker than the official channels.”

“Any bounties on your head yet?”

“Oh, a few. Not as big as yours, though. I heard it’s up in the millions now.” Annette said, her voice hushed, but still gleeful.

“That it is.” She paused for a moment, and looked up once more at bright, brilliant eyes, and swallowed. “Remember on Gorse, you said you owed me a favour?”

“Yep! What’s up?” 

“Uh.” She paused, and L1 let out an inquisitive beep. “Yeah, L1, I’m getting there. So. Uh. My ship. It uh. The imps got to it. And now I’m stuck here, right under the Empire’s nose. Could you help me offworld?”

“Oh, Ingrid. Of course, that doesn’t even count as a favour. I’ve got a shipment to make for our mutual friends.” She grinned, and winked at Ingrid, her smile brighter than the stars. All of them, combined. “I can’t drop you off at any ports, this stuff is urgent. But if you want to stop with them, or go off somewhere else, I can help.”

Ingrid looked up at her, desperately trying to keep the adoration in her eyes hidden. She couldn’t be too obvious. “I just need to get off this planet. I’ll work out next steps when I’m with people who won’t try and kill me the first chance they get.” She said, and tried to force a grin. She could be charming. Sometimes. She’d been charming at least once in her life.

“Still intent on keeping out of the rebellion at large, then?” Annette said, so calm it was as if they were on a rebel planet, rather than in the lion’s den.

“Yes. There’s a target on my back a mile wide, I’m not risking the whole thing for my own safety. I can’t be much help, anyway.”

“Edelgard’s bounty is bigger than yours, and she spends half her time with the Alliance. You should consider it. I don’t like seeing an old friend turn up at a truly awful cantina with blaster wounds.”

“Edelgard is a lot better at disguising herself than I am. And I was foolish. I thought I was safe on the Outer Rim. The imps were harassing a couple of kids, and I had to step in. I couldn’t not. So they caught onto me and trailed me across half the galaxy, and now I’m here.”

A strange look flicked across Annette’s face, one Ingrid couldn’t quite decipher. Her face looked awkward, stilted. But only for a moment. Before Ingrid could quite register what was going on, she was back to normal. “Isn’t that why you should regroup with our friends? They won’t let you die horribly on some abandoned planet in the middle of nowhere.” She paused for a moment, and took in a breath, a shuddering one. “And if you do any heroics that put your life in danger, you won’t be taking your extremely obvious Jedi starfighter with you. You’re an idiot, you know that?”

“Is… Are you alright?” Ingrid said, her voice quavering a little.

“No. I’m sick of seeing people I care about die doing stupid things.” She scoffed, and finished the rest of her drink. “C’mon, we’re going to go and make sure that all of my shit has made it onto my ship, and then we’re going to get you patched up.”

Annette stood and walked away, not even looking behind her. L1 beeped anxiously (he was prone to doing that, Ingrid thought), and she finished her drink, before standing and ensuring her travelling cloak kept her extremely inconspicuous robes hidden. She makes it all of five meters outside the cantina when she runs into Annette, looking exhausted, staring at an extremely young looking Imperial Captain. 

“Listen, ma’am, it’s orders. Any woman travelling alone needs to submit themselves for a search. If you’ve a problem with it, you can take it up to the Imperial Command Center. After you’ve been searched.” He said, bored as if he’d been at the conversation five years, not five minutes.

“And I’m telling you, I’m a merchant, not a Jedi! If you’d let me get to my ship, I could show you my damn paperwork!”

“Just submit yourself for questioning, and we won’t have to deal with this any more,” he said dryly, before raising a single eyebrow, “unless you’re going to tell me you’re travelling with someone else.”

“I-” Annette started, before Ingrid stepped in, her foolish tongue working about a mile ahead of her brain.

“Actually, Captain, she is. I’m her wife.” She turned to face Annette, eyes screaming to please for the love of everything, go along with this. “Sweetheart, you left us in the cantina. I told you, I forgot my cloak.”

Annette said nothing, sans looking slightly agog, and the captain just looked glad to walk away from this conversation.

“Fine. On your heads be it when you get to the checkpoint with no paperwork confirming you’re not who we’re looking for.” He said and walked away, eyeing the cantina wistfully.

Annette turned, and stared. Her eyes were somewhere between furious and awed. Ingrid swallowed.

“They’re looking for you. In case you hadn’t inferred that from conversation, they’re looking for you specifically.”

“Ah.” Ingrid said, eloquently. L1 just made a noise of robotic confusion. 

“Yes. Quick thinking there, for the record, but I don’t know how you’re going to get off the planet now.”

“Uh.” Ingrid said, as eloquently as before.

“Your Jedi mind control,” Annette started, and Ingrid resisted the urge to explain that it wasn’t mind control, just confusion, but decided against it. “Do you think you’ll be able to convince a whole checkpoint of Imperial Officers that we’re just a married couple taking medical supplies to a hospital?”

Ingrid swallowed, nervously. “Uh. Maybe one or two. Depends on how intense the checkpoint is.”

Annette sighed, looked up at the sky, and took Ingrid’s hand in her own. Ingrid tried not to let herself get distracted with how warm it was. She was almost thirty and a Jedi Master. Jedi Masters adhered to the code, and did not get distracted by how nice a girl’s hand was. 

“Okay.” Annette swallowed, the hand not clutched in Ingrid’s shaking slightly. “I know you aren’t a big fan of lying, but we’ll need to do it. Just- Just let me talk.”

Ingrid paused, and let out a rattling breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. “Okay. If things get bad, you go. Get everything to our friends. The lives of thousands are worth more than me alone.”

For a brief second, fury and pain flashed brightly across Annette’s eyes. It was so fleeting Ingrid thought it was imagined, but Annette’s emotions were bright in the Force, enough to almost knock Ingrid over. Within moments, there was no trace of any emotion in her eyes that wasn’t a bubbly type of glee. That wasn’t the image Ingrid had grown accustomed to, when it came to Annette’s nature.

“No.” She said, and whatever anger had evaporated from her face was still alive and well in her voice. “No more deaths. Let’s go.”

Ingrid could only swallow her fear and pride, and follow after Annette as she marched towards the spaceport. L1 gave a solemn beep, and followed on. For a brief moment, Ingrid watched him wheel after Annette. His blue and black paint was chipped and scratched, and his wheels ran without the ease they’d had on Coruscant. The years had been hard, on him just as much as her, and just as much as Annette. Waging a hopeless rebellion against the Galactic Empire was no easy feat. Ingrid willed her feet to move, and willed the Force to protect her from countless Imperial spies that were sure to haunt the area. The walk was solemn, and even in a profitable Imperial held port like this one, the weight of years of control weighed heavy. It was as clear on the faces of those who lived here as it was on her own. Though, she imagined, those who lived here probably weren’t on the cusp of bleeding again, and weren’t covered in scars. Scars gained from a childhood of obedience, and an adulthood of rebellion. She’d been on the run since the age of fifteen. 

L1 gave an inquisitive whine at her, as she slowed to join her friend, waiting in line at the first checkpoint. His concern for her safety was endearing. She patted his head softly, as she moved next to Annette. 

“Annette and Ingrid Fantine,” Annette was muttering, under her breath and with all the hope and terror on the planet, “travelling to Bogden, to deliver medical supplies.”

Ingrid took her hand, and smiled, as softly and fearlessly as she could. Annette’s hand shook, ever so gently, and she looked up with a furious mix of determination and terror. 

There is no emotion, her brain reminded her, there is only peace. She was, at her core, a Jedi. Jedi felt no fear. She released the fear she felt into the Force, and the pair of them were called to the checkpoint.

“Names.” The officer said, and the only thing that matched his boredom in intensity was the sheer strength of Annette’s desperation. Ingrid watched her swallow once, and then give him the biggest smile she could muster.

“Hi! Annette,” she started, pointing at herself, before pointing at Ingrid, “and Ingrid Fantine.” Fear still radiated from her body, but to an untrained eye, one would see none of that.

The officer sighed, rolled his eyes, and pulled up his datapad. “What ship did you arrive on?”

“Crusher, 690 Light Freighter in port 46-A.”

“Name of the droid?”

“R2-L1.” He sighed at her response, and checked his datapad once more, sighing even harder at the alerts he was being given.

“I’m afraid it’s a formality, but do the two of you have your marriage license on your datapad?”

Ingrid felt a tiny jolt of fear spread through her body, but gave her best smile and addressed the officer. “I’m afraid we’re both horribly forgetful, and we left it on the ship.” 

He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her, and she willed the Force to play along, waving her hand before him. “It won’t be a problem, I’m sure.”

His eyes glazed over, just a little. “No. Move along.”

Ingrid and Annette let out a shuddering breath, in unison. Annette took her hand again, and the pair of them led a quiet L1 into the main spaceport. Ingrid had been to Abregedo-rae once, as a Padawan. She’d been thirteen, and curious, and diligently obedient. It had been a bustling, lively place. Now the Empire’s presence was inescapable. No life, no joy, only the determined movement of stormtroopers. A Kubaz walked past her, and let out an irritated noise. 

“46-A isn’t far off. We just need to get past the last checkpoint. We’ll be fine.” Annette grinned, as much to reassure herself as Ingrid, if not more.

“We’ll be fine.” Ingrid said, and squeezed Annette’s hand once.

By the time the walk to the shuttle was over, Annette had not released Ingrid’s hand from her own. Ingrid could feel the warmth blossoming through her body, it would have been torture had the mere physical contact not sent sparks across her body. Good ones. Not like the sensation of Force Lightning being arced across her body, but the comfort of someone caring. Annette squeezed her hand softly, and she looked up at the ship before her, and the Imperials before it. 

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” Ingrid said, softly, to nobody in particular.

“Don’t talk unless I tell you to.” She whispered, her lips dragging across Ingrid’s ear, and this had become a form of torture like no other, now. She swallowed, and nodded.

“Annette Domenic.” The officer’s voice was harsh and clipped, his tone seething with a fury that lay well hidden under his polite, austere image. “Who might your fine companion be?”

“My wife. Ingrid Fantine.” Annette said, her voice level, and terse. Ingrid nodded once, at once polite and seething with rage.

“Ah, your wife. Do you have your marriage license with you, Mrs Domenic?”

“Mrs Fantine. The both of us. And I don’t, actually. We’re not technically legally married.”

“Ah. Of course, of course. A noted smuggler like yourself might find trouble getting an official license.”

“I’ve done nothing illegal.” She said, and her eyes were full of pride and terror.

“No. Or, at least you haven’t been caught doing anything illegal yet. May I ask where you two are going?”

“A hospital on Bogden. My best friend runs it, they’re in urgent need of supplies.”

“Urgent,” he laughed, the very concept alien to him, “I’m sure it’s urgent, yes. I’m afraid I’ll need a little more detail than that.” His eyes narrowed, and Ingrid swallowed. “Two questions, mostly. First, where are you actually headed. And second.” His smile grew wide, like that of a predator, just about to strike. His eyes met Ingrid’s “Did you think I wouldn’t recognise you. It’s been so long, Padawan Galatea. Or, you’re a Master now, aren’t you. You don’t remember me, but I certainly remember you. I was just a trooper then, and I saw you kill my brothers.”

Ingrid’s hand was on her lightsaber, moving as subtly as she could, and suddenly she was alive. The Force was working with her, her ally, rather than a force to be worshipped and used. She’d always found herself more suited to battle than she’d expected, she wielded a lightsaber with skill and fury, and never had her life been more threatened than in this moment. 

One stormtrooper turned his head towards her, and barked, “General Kryn, what are your orders.”

Kryn smiled once more, furious and deadly. His voice was soft, and furious. “Capture Master Galatea. I care nothing for the other one. Kill her if you wish.”

And then the firing began, and Ingrid was acting not on her own intuition, but through the guidance of the Force.

“Get to the ship!” She yelled, desperate and terrified, “Both of you, now!”

Annette’s blaster was already in her hand, firing desperate shots towards the dozens of stormtroopers firing at them. “I’m not leaving you behind, Ingrid!”

“Go, I’ll be there! Get the ship ready for takeoff, I’ll hold them off!”

Ingrid was a Jedi Master, and a Master forged not in the peace of the Galactic Republic, but one forged in the flames of the Empire’s relentless pursuit of her. The two blaster wounds barely hurt, as she dodged shots and deflected them. Two stormtroopers fell to her saber in a single blow, and whatever part of her that hated killing had died long ago. Annette had barely made it past their ranks, and now Ingrid would have to slaughter her way through, until she was on board Crusher, the boarding ramp shut behind them, far into Hyperspace.

They fired, relentlessly, and Ingrid heard the familiar whirr of the Hyperdrive, kicking into gear. Blaster bolts collided with her arms and legs, and yet none of the pain they caused was enough to break the trance she’d allowed herself to settle into. She was one with the Force, and she would make it aboard the ship. Preferably, she allowed herself to think, without allowing her body to become one with the Force. She wasn’t old enough for death, not yet. She staggered onto the boarding ramp, and dragged herself along it, all the while feeling the familiar rumble of a departing ship beneath her. She was deflecting blaster bolts and cutting down stormtroopers as best she could, and felt a sigh of relief as she reached the top of the ramp and it closed behind her. Just her, Annette, and L1.

“You’re wounded, Master Ingrid.” He offered, somehow conveying a desperate kind of anxiety through only binary.

“I know. Annette has supplies. Can you go get her, take over piloting the ship?”

“Of course, Master Ingrid.” He beeped once more, and Ingrid gave a slightly bloodied pat to his body. “Do not pass out.” 

Ingrid lay on the floor of the ship, keeping her focus on how severe the pain in her body was, how agonising every breath was in that moment. Pain was, at least, proof she was alive. As long as she was conscious, and in pain, she was alive. And then she heard a gentle whimper, from somewhere outside her peripheral vision, and suddenly she was being dragged to her feet, Annette’s soft voice at once deafeningly loud and agonisingly quiet in her ears.

“-grid, don’t yo- die- I won’t-” She made out, as her head swam and the pain in her body burned like lava.

“nette?” She slurred, and tried to make her exhausted legs move, coming up short.

“Don’t- -re speak, In-” Annette said, and Ingrid shut her mouth, unaware of anything around her, besides the warmth of her hands and the slight wetness falling onto her cheek. 

She barely noticed being hooked up to medkit, bacta patches beginning to cover the various wounds and future scars that littered her body. She was exhausted, and Annette’s hand was cool on her burning body. Sleep took her with ease almost immediately.

* * *

  
Ingrid awoke with a start, and a jolt of pain. Her body was bandaged, one arm coated in them and a decent part of her chest along with it. Her breath came with a degree of difficulty, and her head was swimming. 

“Fuck.” She said, to nobody in particular. 

Her lightsaber was by the side of the bed she found herself on, and with a degree of difficulty, dragged her aching body to stand upright, and willed it into her hand with the Force. Unlike standing, the Force caused her no pain. 

She looked around the room, discovering nothing but a clean shirt by the side of the room, and a loose pair of trousers already on. Her poor robes, she remembered, had been little more than simmering rags by the time Crusher had made her launch. She’d need a new set; her spares had been left in a safehouse three systems ago. Still, she pulled the shirt on, ignoring the agonising pain that darted through her body at the movement, and took a fleeting moment to find stillness, and calm, in her body. The Force was comforting, its presence wrapped around her like a shroud, familiar and the closest thing to home she had any more. With a degree of renewed strength, she began to make her way out of the medbay. As she wandered through the corridors, she took in the ship. Annette hadn’t been piloting Crusher when the pair of them had last travelled together. It was faster, for certain, and bore the marks of decades of use. Decades of smuggling. 

She let her unbandaged arm trail behind her, dragging her fingers along the walls, her bandaged arm aching with the pain of keeping it upright. She swore softly under her breath, forgetting a sling was particularly foolish, and she didn’t have the energy to turn around and make her way back. Crusher wasn’t a large ship, but she was injured and exhausted, and wanted to see L1 again. If L1 came with the benefits of seeing Annette again, then that was just fate. She’d intended to seek out the cockpit, logic said that was where the captain would be, but instead she heard L1’s excited beeps coming from a common room. She followed them, with a gentle smile.

“-don’t you dare say you’re not cheating, I know when a droid is cheating!” Annette’s voice was loud, and frustrated, and oh, L1 had found a Pazzak partner.

L1 gave an indignant beep in response, one quickly replaced by a sound of joy as he detected Ingrid. He trundled over towards her with glee, and she patted the top of his head with a distinct kind of happiness. Annette, on the other hand, was fuming. 

Ingrid attempted a crooked grin, and waved her uninjured hand. “You really saved my skin, Annette.”

“Don’t you-” Annette said, eyes furious and hand shaking with unbridled rage. “Don’t you dare act as if nothing’s wrong. You’re so damn lucky Father left medical supplies in the medbay. If he hadn’t, you’d be a corpse on the landing bay right now. It was a miracle you lasted long enough for me to launch and get us into hyperspace.”

Ingrid paled, though she was fairly sure it didn’t make much of a difference. She was probably as white as a sheet. She certainly felt it. Her mind offered her a dozen different questions, all of them somewhere between useless and embarrassing, but none offensive. Unfortunately, her brain blurted the first thing that passed through. “Your- your father? Gustave?”

“Yes, Ingrid. My father. He died pulling some heroic bullshit that ended up killing him, along with a whole shuttle of refugees.” Annette said, as she found a seat once more. Ingrid winced as she mirrored her friend’s movement, but settled down all the same. Annette swallowed, and wiped a stray tear from her eye. “He contacted me, out of the blue, told me he had a smuggling job and needed a pair of hands to take Crusher whilst he piloted a shuttle up. It was refugees, and the Empire shot them down because he brought too much attention to himself.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Annette. I didn’t-”

“How could you know, Ingrid. The point of me telling you this isn’t to extract some kind of sympathy from you, it’s that you’re doing exactly what he did. You might serve your code by putting yourself at risk, but a dead body is no use to the rebellion, to the galaxy, and to me. You don’t save lives by dying yourself.”

Her eyes were beautiful, Ingrid thought. Somewhere between the colour of the ice that had made up every view of Ilium, and the vast oceans of Cato Nemoida. Before Ingrid had a chance to tear her eyes from her friend’s, Annette’s lips were on hers. The kiss was everything Ingrid had pictured, and oh, had Ingrid pictured these moments of kissing, furious and desperate and everything in between. But nothing compared to Annette, who tasted of blood, and sweat, and something Ingrid didn’t recognise. 

“I can’t lose someone else I care about to heroics, Ingrid. Losing Father felt like the worst pain I’ve ever felt, and I spent so much of my life with him transporting goods for the Republic that I barely knew him. But I care about you. And-” her breath hitched, ever so slightly, and Ingrid felt a wave of passion and pain in the Force. “And you’re one of the last Jedi. When all this is over, the galaxy will want Jedi once more. Don’t go putting yourself in peril when all of this is so much more than just you.”

“I can’t promise that, you know I can’t. You put yourself at just as much risk, smuggling goods under their noses.”

  
“I know saving the galaxy comes first. That’s why we’re all involved with this rebellion, I know. But the Empire wishes to subjugate us all, to control us all with such certainty that there exists no concept of freedom.”

“It is not the Jedi way to stand silently to the side when innocent lives are at risk.”

“And I cannot imagine it is the Jedi way to let the Empire grow stronger with every passing day. You could make far more direct change with the Rebellion, surely you understand that.” Annette swallowed, and Ingrid would not have needed the force to detect anxiety in her, nor desperation. “You’d be safe. You’d be with me.”

“I cannot put your life at risk, Annette. To travel with a Jedi, it’s too risky. You’ve seen how we’re hunted.”

“And as long as the Empire stands, every innocent life is at risk. I can’t lose you before we see a free galaxy. At least by fighting beside your side, I can protect you. No making any foolishly brave decisions.”

“We’ll see it, someday. A free galaxy.” Ingrid paused, for a moment, and reached her hand out to Annette, feeling the soft warmth radiating through the soft leather piloting gloves. “If I accept, you need to promise the same, though. No heroics, if you’re holding me to those standards.”

“Ingrid, I’m not the Jedi Knight renowned for being brave to the point of foolishness. I’m a smuggler. We survive in our own ways. I just want you to make it out the end of this war.”

“You’re far braver than I am. All I’ve done for the last fifteen years is run and hide on planets. You’ve made a difference in this war.”

Annette kissed her once more, and Ingrid whimpered softly into her lips. For the first time in fifteen years, Ingrid felt an undeniable sense of home, of comfort and of safety. True safety.

“You’re braver than any of us. The Rebellion will benefit for having you on our side, fighting for us. Every day we grow stronger, and every day we get closer to striking the definitive blow that will crush them once and for all.”

One of Annette’s hands tangled themselves in Ingrid’s hair, and she collapsed softly onto her shoulder. It was comfortable, Ingrid thought, and softer than most of what she’d been sleeping on for the last two years.

“I can’t even call myself a hermit any more.” Ingrid laughed softly. 

“Not even slightly. You were a terrible hermit to begin with, surely you know that.”

“I do, I noticed it more than once. Usually after I got shot.”

“No more getting shot. You’re banned.” 

“I promise.” Ingrid whispered, leaning in for one final kiss. She smiled into it, and vowed to rewrite the damn Jedi code herself, once this war was over. Freedom, for them all.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the ultra rarepair big bang!! 
> 
> my partner was the ever brilliant @_vulpixel on twitter, you can check them and their fucking awesome art for this fic out there!!


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